


Behind the Mask

by Hannaadi88



Series: Make It Work AU Challenge [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Paladin Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Master/Pet, Sexual Slavery, Space Opera, space mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 06:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14279403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannaadi88/pseuds/Hannaadi88
Summary: Accompanying Shiro to a shady meeting with the leader of the Malachim Shechoreem (or the 'Space Mafia', as he liked to call them), Lance poses as the Black Paladin's pet to add to Shiro's credibility among those who own them.And while Lance certainly looks the part, neither of them expected him to actually have to play it.





	Behind the Mask

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble was written for the Make It Work AU Challenge. The prompt I received was mafia au, space opera au and ghost au. While the ghost part of the prompt is only briefly mentioned, I hope you all enjoy the two other elements of the plot!
> 
> Also a shoutout to @robotjellyfish who offered to beta this for me! Thank you so much ♥

"Are you sure about this, Lance?"

Lance glances at his reflection one last time before turning around to face Shiro with an excited smile.

"Shiro, we went over this a million times," Lance reminds him, crossing the distance between the mirror and the couch where Shiro was currently sitting hunched over.

Lance can tell how nervous Shiro is, how reluctant to go through with this act, and it warms his heart. Really. But now isn't the time for Shiro's usual protectiveness of his teammates.

They were on a mission, and they'd all worked so hard to get to this moment of the final transaction. Allura warned them of what they were getting themselves into, and Shiro hadn't been too thrilled about this deal either. But after three weeks of research, reconnaissance and secret meetings with representatives of what Lance decided to call the 'Space Mafia', they were finally here.

If this meeting went well, Voltron and the Coalition will have the means to provide for the refugee camps for months. With each freed planet, the Coalition struggled more to sustain itself. This extra support for the displaced was crucial and would dissolve quite a bit of the tension and strain the Coalition was currently going through.

In short, this was entirely for The Greater Good, even if the process was a little...shady, at best. But Lance was fully prepared to act his part in this final meeting.

Coran prepped him for hours the night before all about how he was expected to look and behave. Hell, he'd _volunteered_ for the job. Not that there was much choice. Allura's face was far too recognizable as the Princess of Altea, and under no condition was Lance going to let Pidge put herself in this...position.

No. He was the man for the job. And Shiro was going to have to play his part convincingly or else all of the team's time and effort would've been for naught.

So Lance seats himself down on the couch next to Shiro and places his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.

"Hey, look at me," he says softly, urging Shiro to look up at him. He frowns when he sees how pale Shiro's face is.

"Shiro, it's gonna be fine. I promise!" Lance says firmly. "This is just an act, so don't worry about insulting me or whatever. I'm not fragile," he adds with a smirk.  
  
Shiro still doesn't look convinced.

"But what if I hurt you?" He says quietly. "I know none of it is real, but what if-"

Lance cuts him off.

"You won't hurt me, Shiro. All I'm supposed to do is sit between your legs and look pretty. You're the one in real danger here. You're the one who's gotta do all the talking. I'm just the accessory, remember?"

Shiro sits quietly for a moment, worrying his lip. His gaze roams over Lance's outfit and Lance can’t help but preen just a little bit. He knows he looks good.

The black shorts and corset leave little to the imagination, giving anyone who cares to look a good view of his long legs and chest. He'll put on the Venetian mask that's supposed to make sure that no one recognizes him as a Paladin just before the meeting begins. The studded collar Allura loaned him completes the look.

"…you do look nice."

Lance's cheeks color a bit at that. He isn't used to getting compliments about his appearance from Shiro.

"If something makes you uncomfortable, though, you pinch my leg, got it?" Shiro continues, grasping Lance's wrist and holding it tightly in his flesh hand.

"I need you to promise me you'll let me know. And I don't care how much we need their supplies- the minute something goes wrong we're out of here. We can always find someone else to help us. Your safety is my top priority tonight." 

Lance swallows thickly and nods. He isn't scared, not really, but Shiro's concern makes him wonder if there's something about this operation that he isn't aware of. But that can't be. They'd been debriefed together. Shiro doesn't have any more information about the alien they were meeting than he does.

"I promise," Lance says anyway, just to calm Shiro's nerves. He meets his eyes and nods solemnly to reassure him that yes, he is taking this seriously. Shiro's grip on his wrist relaxes and Lance slips away just to curl his palm into a fist and extend it.

"Fist bump for good luck?"

Shiro blinks at Lance's fist before slowly curling his own with a small smile. He bumps their fists together and Lance beams.

"Guys, they're in the building! Get into positions!"  
  
"Roger that, Pidge," Shiro presses his earpiece, adjusting it one last time before sitting straight up on the couch with his legs slightly spread, jaw set. Lance allows himself to appreciate the sight for a split second. Gone was the hesitant, nervous Shiro who was worried about Lance's comfort. In his place sat the Black Paladin, leader of Voltron. A man one wouldn't want to mess with.

A man who owns his very own pleasure slave, just like all the powerful figures in the Space Mafia do.

According to Coran, if Voltron wanted to deal with the Space Mafia, they first needed to earn their respect. If Shiro wanted to appear strong and dominant, he needed someone weak and submissive at his feet to reflect it.

And that is where Lance comes in.

Adjusting his shorts one last time, Lance pulls out his mask and puts it on before lowering himself to his knees in front of Shiro. He tries not to look at his face as he situates himself between his legs, folding his own beneath him. A little uncomfortable, Lance moves until he finds a comfortable spot leaning against the couch while his head rests on Shiro's calf for extra support.

Oh, did it give support. Lance would put money on Shiro being able to lift him just with his legs.

"Are you alright down there?"

Lance turns his head and looks up, offering Shiro a pleased smile.

"I think I'll survive," he drawls, running his fingers down the back of Shiro's leg, relishing in the slight shiver it earns him. If Shiro confronts him about it later, he'll just say that he was getting into character.

Neither of them have a chance to comment about it now, though, as the door opens and in walks an alien Lance has only seen photos of. Ason Merusha. The leader of the _Malachim Shechoreem_ (Space Mafia, Lance repeats to himself silently). Lance only gets to note how tall he is and the alarming green shade of his skin before he reminds himself to look down at the floor.

'Never make eye contact', Coran warned him. Pleasure slaves don't get to look at their superiors unless explicitly ordered to.

So Lance watches Ason's spiked feet as he walks into the room and takes his seat opposite Shiro. His eyes widen as he sees another pair of feet, smaller ones, that soon are tucked under a slim body between Ason's legs.

With pale blue skin and wide green eyes, Lance can see why Ason wanted this alien for his own. They look so young, though. So…defeated. He tries to sneak a smile at them, but the moment their eyes meet, the unnamed pleasure slave turns their head and buries their face in Ason's leg.

Lance looks away as well, swallowing his disgust and trying to ignore the rage flaring in his chest. No one deserves to look so _broken_. He won't say or do anything now, but once this deal was done and made, Ason was going to have a lot to answer for. That alien wasn't going to remain a pleasure slave for long if Lance had a say in it.

"…one from?"

Lance startles as he feels Shiro's hand rest heavily on his head, petting his curls familiarly. As if this wasn't the first time he's ever done so. Lance tightens his hold on Shiro's leg and holds his breath. He'd obviously missed the beginning of the conversation.

"He's from my planet," Shiro replies to Ason's question. "I picked him up not too long ago. A little feisty," Shiro's voice takes on a teasing tone, "but his training is going well."

Lance can feel Ason's heavy gaze on him as he chuckles and he suppresses a shiver. He's suddenly very glad to be tucked safely beneath Shiro, far out of Ason's reach.

"I'm glad to hear it," Ason's voice sounds rough to Lance's human ears. "He does look rather…delightful. However," he places his own clawed hand on the blue-skinned alien between his legs, who flinches at his touch. "Denbar is truly a prize unrivaled. She was a princess of her tribe."

Lance can see the way Denbar's cheeks darken at Ason's words and again, he swallows the overwhelming urge to stand up and punch Ason's ugly mug. By the way the fingers in his hair tighten their grip, he can tell Shiro is holding himself back as well.

"Is that so?" Shiro's voice is calm, mildly curious, but Lance can hear the restraint in his words. "That's certainly impressive. How did she come into your possession?"

Ason makes a strange, pleased sound from the back of his throat that makes Lance recoil instinctively. Shiro's fingers immediately move from the top of his head to the back, roaming down his neck and pressing soothingly against his skin. Lance allows his eyes to flutter shut for a moment to simply enjoy the touch.

"We aren't so different, you and I," Ason says slowly. "You're a Defender of the Universe, are you not?"

Lance has no idea where Ason was going with this, but he doesn't like it, not one bit. Ason shares _nothing_ in common with Shiro.

He guesses that Shiro nodded, because Ason continues his train of thought.

"Well, the _Malachim Shechoreem_ do our own defending across the universe, as you know. Quite a bit of it. The only difference is that we are paid for it."

 _Protection money_ , Lance's mind immediately supplies and he looks at Denbar's sad eyes with new light. Had her family been coerced into giving her over to Ason to protect their tribe from his men?

Lance is quickly starting to understand Shiro's initial distaste for this transaction. There was nothing exciting about it. Once they were done, he'd get to slip out of his costume and put his Paladin armor back on. Denbar won't have that option.

"I'd say it's a significant difference," Shiro points out, a little sharp, and Lance is quick to rub his cheek against Shiro's leg to grab his attention. The action makes Shiro remember himself and he soothes his tone. "But enough about what sets us apart. We're here to talk business."

Lance feels Ason's heavy gaze on him again and he resolutely keeps his head down, biting his lip until Ason looks away and nods as Shiro.

"Indeed we are, Black Paladin. Shall we get to it?"

Lance doesn't focus on the bartering. This was Shiro's territory, one he'd talked over with Allura and Coran numerous times. Lance was aware of the exchange, of course. They were to hand over a copy of the Altean device that allowed Allura's father to contain his memories in and project an image of himself after his death. Sort of like a ghost, really. The team wasn't sure what Ason wanted to do with it, exactly, but they'd all eventually agreed that he couldn't do much harm with it.

It was certainly worth parting with the technology for access to the Space Mafia's warehouses. But now that Lance thinks about it, he isn't sure how he feels about using them. Most of the supplies in them were probably stolen from people like Denbar's family.

"Fifteen warehouses is more than fair, Paladin."

"Our deal was twenty," Shiro says roughly, catching Lance's attention. He can practically feel the tension in the room.

Ason shakes his head and leans back in his seat, twisting his hand lazily in Denbar's long hair.

"Our deal is what we sign today. And today I've come to realize that one machine is worth fifteen, not twenty of my warehouses."

Shiro's nails dig into the back of Lance's neck.

"We had an understanding, Ason. Fifteen isn't enough for our needs. Voltron can always find someone else to do business with- someone who doesn't go back on his word."

Lance's breath catches in his throat as Ason stills and leans forward in his seat. His next words are spoken in a low, dangerous tone that sends shivers up Lance's spine.

"Are you insinuating that I am a liar?"

Not for the first time that night, Lance is grateful that he isn't the one doing the negotiating. He was good with solidifying treaties for the Coalition, with generally friendly planets who just needed a little convincing and a push in the right direction. Lance prides himself in being a smooth talker.

But this? This was out of his comfort zone, to say the least. Bargaining with criminals who hold no stake in the general wellbeing of the universe was something Lance wasn't sure he was qualified for.

And though he can taste the bitter tang of fear on his tongue, Lance knows that he's safe. Shiro won't let anything happen to him. Not when he was weaponless like this.

"That's not what I said," Shiro says calmly. "I was merely stating that Voltron will take its business elsewhere if our conditions aren't met."

Ason doesn't move, and for a moment Lance thinks he might strike, but the long-suffering sigh that follows diffuses most of the tension in the room.

"You drive a hard bargain, Black Paladin. Very well. Twenty warehouses it is. However," he crosses his legs, forcing Denbar to quickly move and accommodate him, "there is one, small personal favor I'd like from you before signing them over to Voltron's use."

"Oh?" Lance can hear the wariness in Shiro's voice. "And what would that be?"

Curious as well, Lance sneaks a glance up at Ason only to meet his narrow, red eyes. He freezes as Ason's stare turns into a leer.

This can't be good.

"I should like a turn with your pet," Ason states, eyes never leaving Lance's. For some odd reason, Lance can't look away. "Even at your feet, I can see how willful he is. It would be my pleasure to help you with his training."

Lance can feel Shiro's hand slip down to his shoulder and squeeze it reassuringly. It's only then that Lance realizes that he'd been shaking.

"I appreciate it, but my answer is no. His training is by my hand and my hand alone."

Lance finally tears his eyes away from Ason and lowers his gaze, cheeks tinged with heat. He knows it's just words, just an act, but to hear Shiro practically growl his possessiveness didn't help Lance's crush any. As unsettling as this whole situation was, Lance knows he'll have plenty of new jerkoff material to sift through once they get back to the castle ship.

He startles as he hears a loud laugh reverberate in the room, much louder than any human laugh. Huh. Ason doesn't sound too broken- hearted over Shiro's refusal.

"Ah, I don't blame you. I'd be reluctant to share that kind of beauty, myself. Wouldn't dream of ever allowing anyone to touch Denbar," Ason's long fingers trail down the side of Denbar's throat, who stays perfectly still.

"Although," Ason continues, "I have been generous with you and taken your interests into consideration. I expect you to show me some as well, Paladin."

"I'm sorry, but I won't yield on this point." There was no mistaking the finality in Shiro's tone.

Lance can feel Ason's eyes on him again, but this time, he doesn't dare acknowledge them.

"In that case, how about you meet me halfway? It's only fair."

"…what are you offering?"

"I'll respect your wishes of being the only one to touch your property," Ason drawls. "But I should like to watch."

Lance's mouth goes dry.

"What?"

He doesn't think he's ever heard Shiro so unsure.

"I should like to watch your pet pleasure you," Ason clarifies, unperturbed. "I'd like to see the fruit of the Black Paladin's training."

"I-I don't—"

"It's such a small thing, Paladin," Ason cuts Shiro off. "And my final offer. Take it or leave it."

This time, it's Shiro who Lance can feel is shaking. He discreetly starts to rub soothing shapes against his leg in hopes of calming him down, and while the trembling does stop, Shiro doesn't say anything. It takes Lance a moment to realize why.

_He's waiting for me to pinch him._

Lance hides his face in the fabric of Shiro's dress pants as he mulls it over. Is this too uncomfortable for him? Does he want to call everything off? Shiro is obviously leaving it up to him to decide. Just that thought is enough to make Lance's chest feel all warm and fuzzy.

Shiro trusts him and his judgement.

_I won't let him down._

Pleasuring Shiro…that meant sucking him off, right? Lance's face heats up. It's not like he doesn't have experience- Jason and Henrie from his flight class seemed to like his mouth well enough when it was on them.

But this was _Shiro_. His hero. His leader. Not to mention the guy he's half in love with who has yet to even hold his hand. What if he doesn't feel the same way? What if he'll never be able to look at Lance again?

Lance takes a deep breath and rubs his cheek against Shiro's legs in what he hopes Shiro will take as his permission to continue. Even if Shiro will hate him after this, Lance can't risk losing all of the supplies the Coalition needs. They all put too much into this for the deal to fall through due to Lance's _feelings_ , of all things.

"Paladin?"

"Fine," Shiro says quickly, a slight tremor in his voice. "You've got a deal."

"Excellent!" Ason hums and sits back in his chair. He pulls out a small tablet from his shirt pocket and presses his finger to the hologram image it immediately projects. It turns green before disappearing.

"You have my initial, binding agreement to our deal. I shall submit my final signature once you've completed your favor."

Lance feels Shiro's grasp on his shoulder tighten.

"Very well, then. Turn around, Blue."

Swallowing thickly, Lance slowly rises to his knees and turns around, still situated neatly between Shiro's legs. He carefully places his hands on Shiro's thighs for support and looks up.

Lance can tell that Shiro's doing his best to keep his expression in check, but his conflicted conscience is clear in his dark grey eyes.

With his back to Ason, Lance judges it safe to offer Shiro a warm, confident smile. He can do this. He _will_ do this. There was no need for Shiro to feel guilty.

Shiro looks at him silently for a long moment before his face hardens into the mask he wore when they started the meeting. Lance's heart skips a beat.

This is it. The show must go on.

"What are you waiting for?" Shiro snaps, reaching down and grasping his jaw. "Go on. You know what to do."

Lance nods and raises his hands from Shiro's thighs to unzip his pants. Had they been standing, he might've bothered with Shiro's belt and buttons as well, but in this position…well. It was just easier. If Shiro had any protests, he doesn't voice them as Lance carefully reaches in and searches for his cock underneath the layers of fabric. Once he finds it, he wraps his fingers around the warm flesh and pulls it out.

His heart is racing in his chest as he gets a good look at Shiro's length. It's bigger than Jason's or Henrie's, that's for sure, and yeah, Lance admits. Everything he's ever daydreamed about. Long. Thick. His mouth waters a little at the prospect of soon being able to taste it.

Shiro's hand moves from his jaw to the top of his head, where his fingers dig into his curls and tug, just a bit.

"Don't be nervous because of Mr. Merusha. Just do what we've practiced together."

Lance worries his lip for a moment, wondering how to approach this. He doesn't fail to note how Shiro's cock hardens the longer he looks at it. His mind made, Lance leans down and tilts his head, holding Shiro's cock back as he licks a wide stripe up the length of it, from the base to the tip. Just like he's done countless times in his fantasies.

Once at the tip he presses his lips down in a kiss and risks looking up at Shiro. The slightly wide eyes and flushed cheeks are all the encouragement Lance needs to continue.

_He likes it._

Emboldened, Lance proceeds to lick Shiro from all different angles while keeping his hand wrapped around the base in a firm hold. The fingers of his other hand are splayed on top of Shiro's thigh to keep him steady. Shiro makes a small sound when Lance starts to pay special attention to his balls, and Lance can feel himself harden in his shorts.

Lance's cheeks burn as he takes one into his mouth and sucks on it, rolling the delicate skin on his tongue, mindful of his teeth. He presses his legs together in an attempt to hide what was going on in his own body, but Lance knows it's a lost cause. The moment he'll pull away it'll be clear to Shiro and to everyone in the room how much he was actually enjoying this.

After all, the shorts really did leave little to the imagination.

The fingers in his hair tighten their grip again and Lance makes a startled sound as he's pulled off of Shiro and forced to look up into his eyes.

"Enough teasing," Shiro orders, voice tight and slightly out of breath. Lance whimpers.

He can't help it- Shiro manhandling and ordering him about like this was straight out of his favorite wet dream, and it was all going straight to his dick. It's only when he sees Shiro's eyes widen with a touch of panic that Lance realizes how his unintended sound effect might have come off.

Quickly, he raises his free hand from Shiro's thigh to wrap around his cock as well, giving it a firm stroke before coming to a stop above Lance's other hand. He squeezes both as he leans down and presses a slow, sweet kiss to the tip, all while maintaining eye contact with Shiro. He winks as his tongue darts out to lap up the precum pooling under his lips.

Lance can tell that Shiro has calmed down by the way his grip loosens on his hair and how he leans back on the couch, spreading his legs a little wider.

Now that he has more room to maneuver, Lance steels himself and opens his mouth as wide as he can, bending over Shiro's lap as he slowly takes his cock down his throat, inch by inch. Lance doesn't attempt to take it in all at once- he'd made that mistake once and the last thing he needs is a sore throat. Instead, he bobs his head, trying to take a little more with every bob. 

It takes five tries, but Lance finally is able to move his hands and press his nose into the curly black hairs at Shiro's base. There's an ache in his jaw and his eyes are watering, but Lance has never felt so…fulfilled.

He's done it. After all those years of his admittedly somewhat embarrassing hero worship, he's finally done it. He has Takashi Shirogane's cock down his throat. Teenager Lance would've been proud.

Lance takes a second to breathe and revel in the moment before carefully opening his eyes and swallowing. The sudden jerk of Shiro's hips sends Lance back up, choking, tears in his eyes.

Knowing that it might send Shiro panicking again, Lance quickly takes a firm grip of Shiro's cock and goes right back down, refusing to give Shiro the time to fret over him. He doesn't take him as deep as before, but Lance tries to set a quick and satisfying pace to the bob of his head. His hand is there to squeeze and pump the inches he doesn't get to.

For two good minutes Shiro is Lance's world- he is his sole focus, the only person in existence as far as he's concerned. It's Shiro's hands in his hair, Shiro's labored breath in his ear, Shiro's taste thick on his tongue. He can feel that Shiro is close. Can sense it. The exact timing of it eludes him, though.

The only indication Lance gets of Shiro's imminent release is the low groan and sudden thrust of Shiro's hips, hands holding him down and keeping Lance's head in place as Shiro arches his back and empties himself down Lance's throat. Lance forces himself to take it in stride, swallowing everything Shiro has to give. It isn't the tastiest thing he's ever swallowed, but it's _Shiro._

Shiro's grip slowly loosens and Lance carefully pulls away, sighing as Shiro's cock leaves a trail of semen down his lips and chin. He wishes he can see himself in the mirror and commit his reflection to memory. He probably isn't going to have another chance to do so. Almost regretfully, he takes Shiro's length and tucks it back into his pants, meeting Shiro's eyes as he zips him up.

The intensity of his gaze shocks Lance, and he quickly looks away. He lowers himself back down to the floor and does his best to ignore the ach between his legs.

"Thank you, Black Paladin," a voice breaks the silence and Lance shudders, wishing this was all over and that he'd never need to hear Ason's voice again. "You've trained your pet well."

The rest of the meeting is short and to the point, much to Lance's relief. Ason and Shiro both sign the hologram contract and proceed to shake hands, finalizing the agreement. Lance is just glad he doesn't need to be the one to touch him. He keeps his head down as Ason and Denbar stand up and begin to walk out of the room.

He doesn't expect them to come to a stop next to him.

Before he can even think to shy away, Lance gasps as his chin is grasped in an unforgiving hold. Shiro immediately stands up, poised to strike, but Ason raises his hand.

"Peace, Paladin. I mean him no harm," he promises. Lance shudders as Ason's cold thumb brushes over his lips, smearing Shiro's seed all over them.

"You gave a convincing performance today, Blue Paladin," he murmurs. Lance's eyes widen in alarm. "Well done. This look suits you better than your armor."

Lance yanks his head back, baring his teeth, but all Ason does is laugh. He stands back up from his crouch and continues towards the door.

"I'll see you both at the transfer of goods, Paladins."

And with that, he was gone.

Lance stays on the floor, curled up and suddenly feeling very, very empty inside. How did Ason know it was him? Had he known from the start? Is that why he put him and Shiro through this? What was the point?

A warm hand on his shoulder pulls him out of his thoughts.

"Lance? Are you okay?"

Lance looks up to see Shiro offering him his hand and looking at him with such open concern that it pulls on his heartstrings. He takes a deep breath and nods, a weak smile on his lips as he takes Shiro's hand and allows himself to be pulled up.

To his surprise, he's immediately pulled into a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Lance," Shiro whispers, tightening his hold. "I never should've agreed to his terms! I should have called everything off the moment he—"

Lance is quick to cut him off.

"No, Shiro, you did what needed to be done," Lance insists, pulling back from Shiro's chest just enough to meet his eyes. "Besides…" His cheeks feel warm again. "You didn't make me do anything I didn't want."

Shiro's eyes widen, just a bit. His own face colors as he presses closer and obviously notices the hardness between Lance's legs.

"You…liked it?"

Lance doesn't trust himself to speak, so he simply nods, wishing he could just disappear in this moment and save himself the mortification of Shiro politely letting him down. He'd be nice about it, Lance knows, but still. Being turned down by your crush when you still had their taste on your tongue was awkward as hell.

He blinks as Shiro raises his hand and cups his cheek, instead.

"Lance, I…Would you mind if I, um…"

Lance doesn't think he's ever seen Shiro's face so red- and this is after he got him off.

"Yes?"

Shiro takes a deep breath.

"Can I kiss you?"

Lance's heart skips a beat and before he can stop himself, he wraps his arms around Shiro's neck and pulls him down for a kiss, pressing their mouths together just like he's always dreamed.

So maybe he has some Space Mafia creep stalking him, and maybe his and Shiro's relationship won't have a fairytale beginning.

But with Shiro's hands on his hips and his lips fitted warmly against his own, Lance can't bring himself to care.

He wouldn't trade this reality for any fiction.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
> * Short comments
> 
> * Long comments
> 
> * Questions
> 
> * Constructive criticism
> 
> * “<3” as extra kudos
> 
> * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> This author replies to comments.
> 
> EDIT 14.4.19: I've got some pretty exciting news!! 
> 
> http://hannaadi88.tumblr.com/post/184182360487/hannaadi88-hello-everyone-im-proud-to


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